Friday, August 31, 2007
When I was chatting with a friend yesterday, answering questions about my birthday and what did I get and where did Bubba take me and all that, I suddenly became really aware of what a big dork I've become.
Usually talking about my birthday is my most favorite of all subjects because it involves me, my favorite topic, and my special day and all things that relate to me.
You see why I love this.
I usually go on and on about whatever fabulous things I got to do all day just the way I like them and then about the great things that Bubba did because he is the most awesome of all men and then, perhaps, a short (long and detailed) account of all gifts, cards, voicemails, birthday songs, and telegrams received in honor of me and My Special Day.
But yesterday I realized that, in addition to calling it My Special Day like a five year old, I'm also getting to be a really big dork as evidenced by my recounting (with GREAT enthusiasm) of all the gifts Bubba piled up on the table for me to open.
Sure, the pile of gifts part sounds great and normal, but the contents of said gifts were what really had me excited and also had me looking like a rabid weirdo.
I remember the day when I would be excited about getting normal gifts. You know, like a watch, camera, some clothes, a hot handbag, new snowboard - you know normal things. And when I told people about these things, they too would get excited, possibly imagining themselves receiving similar normal and fun gifts which they would love in a normal way.
Those days have apparently passed.
As it appears I have grown beyond desiring normal gifts and into a dangerously dorky area where gifts I will love can only be had from bizarre shops that exist only on The Internets. Because a whole actual store dedicated to diamond head drill bits wouldn't get a business loan from even the most blind and delusional of all lenders.
This is the theme that became really obvious as I sat explaining to my lovely and understanding friend that what made the new sunglasses from Bubba special was not that they were fashiony or expensive but that they were polarized and would allow me to see the fish better when I was out on the river in my waders looking for trout.
And then what exactly I planned to do with two sets of diamond head drill bits and was I sure I didn't mean diamond stud earrings.
Telling people that you've been collecting sea glass for nearly a decade and secretly pining for the moment when you'll be able to drill holes in the little bits and make them into beads for jewelry is not the way you lift the dorky cloud gathering around your head.
It really isn't.
And then I told her that the best of all the gifts, even the drill bits, was the birthday drawer FULL of my favorite garden gloves. Because they are perfect and fit just right and I've had the same pair for so long that the fingertips have almost all cracked and they're starting to smell like my old running shoes that had to be thrown away because of how they smelled. And now I have a DOZEN new pairs! Woo!
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she laughed out loud and looked around nervously to see if anyone else had just heard me proclaim my love to garden gloves.
Seriously though, how hot is this:
I am pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a second when I ripped off the paper. TWELVE pairs of my favorite garden glove of all time? Now that is a gift.
Of course, Bubba had to find some weird place online where they stock these gloves and sell them in bulk and probably also eat their young and spawn in pods, but because none of the nurseries around here have them we are forced to go to extreme measures.
After horrifying my friend with my undeniable weirdness, I tried to redeem myself by explaining that after The Opening of a Thousand Perfectly Weird Gifts, Bubba took me out for a fabulous dinner at a great seafood restaurant so that I could eat the whole sea (he's allergic to most sea faring creatures, so this is really taking one for the team) and get drunk on gin and good wine.
And he had flowers sent to the restaurant and set out on our table so that when we showed up and I said, "Ooh, I hope we get to sit at *that* table with the pretty flowers", it was actually *our* table unlike last time I said this and it was someone elses table and I felt like a douchebag when I realized that those were flowers sent special for the person who was actually sitting there (not me).
But Bubba's a genius and knew that a dinner of a thousand sea creatures, flowers and a pile of perfectly weird gifts would make me a happy birthday girl. And also going to Hawaii next week so that I can remind everyone that I'm STILL IN MY TWENTIES FOR ONE MORE YEAR won't be bad either.
Let us begin the lifetime of 29th birthdays.